gothic

Fortuna, might a mortal speak your name
In gratitude that is not stained with grief?
The vision you have led athwart my shame
Has shattered e'en this world-worn soul's belief
In solitude, and now I would as lief
Surrender, be consumed in bashful eyes
Vermeil as blooded rose, their glance too brief
Enveil'd by hair as blue as evening skies
Nor could those ebon lips be soil'd by lies
If truth is beauty, such can but be true
Now, mad Fortuna, must I realize
Your misery, be company to you?
For such perfection could not look to me
So, Fate, I join you in insanity.